Impressions
by Nosiddam951
Summary: Dean Winchester always seemed to give strangers good first impressions. It was part of his charisma. Dean/OMC. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural. At all.

**Authors note:** This is my first story. Hope you enjoy it. I'll write another chapter if anybody wants me to.

**Warnings: **Slash, and bad language. Also bad spelling maybe, I don't have a beta but I checked this a million and one times. I'm pretty sure I'm a little bit nervous about looking like a fool with bad grammar.

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It wasn't odd for Blake to be sitting in some random pub on any given night. In fact, it would be odd if he wasn't sitting at a bar, drowning his sorrows in whiskey. Every night it was the same. He would sit there alone, and get really drunk. It was the same every night, until he came in. This man, he was intriguing. Needless to say, he made an impression on the lonely man sitting at the Bar. His face was far from unpleasant to look at; he had a killer smile and a nice body. But what made him interesting was the tired look in his eyes, the scars, the visible ones anyway. Blake couldn't imagine how many scars were hidden beneath clothes, and skin. This man had been through a whole lot, and Blake wanted to know more.

"Buy you a drink? You look like you need one." He said. The man looked at him. The stare was so intense; Blake was worried the man was going to burn a hole through his skull. But then he smiled, that smile that could melt hearts and make men and women alike swoon.

"Sure, thanks. I'm Dean." He offered a hand to shake, and Blake took it, returning the smile.

"Blake." He introduced himself, before asking the bartender for a couple of beers.

"What are you doing here then?" Dean asked. Blake looked around the Pub, realising for the first time that they were basically alone, apart from a drunk passed out in the corner of the room, who smelled fairly ripe, and the bartender who was getting them their beverages.

"Escaping. What about you then? Don't see people like you around here that often." The bartender returned with their beers, and Dean took a sip before asking;

"What do you mean, people like me?"

"Attractive people." Blake said, without thinking. Dean however, simply laughed took another swig of his beer.

"Thanks for that, you're not that bad looking yourself you know. If you went to the right places, the ladies would be all over you." Now it was Blakes turn to laugh.

"Na man, I don't swing that way." Dean stopped, glass halfway to his mouth, shrugged then brought the drink to his lips and chugged the rest of the beer.

"Whatever. It's still true, the ladies would be all over you and you would be able to politely decline and say 'Sorry ladies, I suck dick.'" This caused Blake to almost choke on his beer. Some of it dibbled down his chin and he wiped it away hastily.

"The thought never occurred to me." Dean smiled. Again. It was really getting too much for a too-drunk confused gay guy.

"Would you stop doing that?" Blake said, but his request lacked heat, which just made Dean smile wider.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

"Smiling. It's distracting. Unless you want me to kiss you right now, you better stop doing it!" And Dean didn't know whether it was alcohol that made him do it (disregarding the fact that he had only had one glass) but he smiled as seductively as he could manage, then bit his lip slowly, watching Blake stare at his mouth hungrily.

"I mean it Dean, I don't want to kiss you, and then have you think I violated you! C'mon man! You're as straight as an arrow! Stop teasing me!"

"I've seen a bent arrow before you know. They work just as well as the straight ones." Dean was getting closer to Blake, who was using all his will-power not to start making out with this almost stranger who was now practically on top of him.

"That doesn't make any sense." Blake whispered.

"I don't care." Dean said, before crashing his lips against Blake's. Blake's eyes widened in surprise and Dean pulled back.

"Something wrong? I thought you wanted to kiss me." And there was that smirk again. Damn, for a straight guy, Dean sure knew how to seduce a man.

"I do! It's just that, you're drunk, I don't want to take advantage of you or anything." Blake was internally bashing himself in the head. Repetitively. Goddammit Blake! Let the hot man make out with you!

"I've only had one beer." And with that, Blake put his hand behind Dean's neck and kissed him passionately. Damn Dean could kiss. There was just enough tongue, just enough teeth, and that hint of possessiveness that Blake loved. Then, after too short of a time, Dean pulled back.

"Do you want to take this some place a little less... disgusting?" he asked, staring into Blake's eyes with a look that just screamed lust. Blake was lost for words, so he simply nodded, and Dean grabbed his wrist and pulled him out the door of that repulsive no-name pub.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean led him to his car. It was a Chevy, but Blake couldn't quite pick what make. He was impressed nonetheless. And Dean was obviously proud of this incredible piece of...no other word for it... art.

"Like her? '67 impala, used to be my fathers, he's had her for as long as I can remember, and, needless to say... she's my baby" Dean said fondly. He unlocked the car and the two of them got in. Dean started up the engine and the car made a magnificent rumbling noise, one that featured in dreams, one that lullabies should be made of. It was simply beautiful. They drove for what only felt like mere minutes, but in reality, it was getting close to an hour. The car eventually rolled to a stop outside some cheap and dirty hotel room.

"Sorry, it's not exactly 5 star living, but it's all I've got. In case you hadn't guessed, I'm not from around here." Dean looked genuinely apologetic. Blake just smiled.

"Hey, it could be a whole lot worse. Trust me, this is fine." Relief washed over Dean's near perfect features as he got out of the car. Blake followed suit, while Dean searched his pockets for the hotel key. He quickly found it and opened the door to hotel room number 68. Dean saw Blake looking at the room number.

"I owe you one" he smirked. Blake raised an eyebrow, obviously confused.

"68, I owe you one? Get it?" Blake laughed at the immaturity, but also at the look on his companions face, it was the mischievous look that you only ever saw on teenage boys' faces when they were somewhere they weren't supposed to be. It was adorable.

"Yeah." Blake looked around the room. There wasn't much to it, just a couple of old, well used bags piled at the end of the only queen sized bed in the room. There were a couple of books stacked on the small table in the corner of the room, and a knife on the bedside table. Not a kitchen knife, but a massive one, used for slicing animal flesh. Or human. Blake looked at Dean quickly, who was watching him intently.

"Self defence" he said, with a shrug. Blake decided to let it go. There was no point pressing the issue, if Dean was going to murder him, he would've done it a while ago. There was just something about Dean that made him trustworthy. Blake just couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it was an incredible turn-on.

"So, do you want a drink?" Blake shook his head and pushed Dean down on the bed, straddling his waist. He bent down to kiss him, wanting to experience more of the amazing make-out session that had started in that pub. That felt like a lifetime ago, now, here in this hotel room god knows where, it was an entirely different ball game. Before, Dean was in charge, now, he was allowing himself to be dominated by Blake, more specifically, Blake's tongue. It was strange. The small part of Blake's brain that was functioning properly right now thought that Dean didn't really seem like the submissive type. This made it all the more hot, to be in charge of such a strong person, probably with an equally strong personality.

Hands were running up and down his back, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, their owner breaking the kiss momentarily allowing the shirt to be pulled off Blake's body. Dean grinned at the sight of Blake's bare chest, and then went back to making out with him. Blake thought it wasn't fair that he was the only one without a shirt, so he pulled away from the man on the bed, hands just resting at the waistband of the jeans Dean was wearing. Dean stared up at Blake hungrily, reaching a hand up to Blake's neck before it was caught. Dean smirked again; the smirk that he knew drove Blake crazy. Blake let go of Dean's wrist and pulled Deans shirt over his head. Revealing a toned chest, Chris-crossed with countess scars. All movement stopped as he surveyed the imperfections. Dean's smirk disappeared. Blake continued to stare wordlessly, focusing on one of the more noticeable scars on Deans left shoulder.

"Um, I-"Dean looked lost for words.

"Shh..." Blake said, tracing the scar on Dean's shoulder with his fingertip, ever so lightly following the tracks of this man's past. He knew there was something more to Dean, something special. Blake wondered where these were from, and why there was so many, and why they were so severe, but this wasn't the time for questions like that. Blake looked up at Dean's face again. He looked nervous. Blake smiled and kissed Dean softly.

"You're going to have to explain this, every single scar, only, later on. Right now, you're far too irresistible to deny myself."

"You know, I've never been with a man." The smirk on Dean's face now was more alluding than ever, but there was a hint of nerves behind the grin, which vanished once Lips started attacking his neck. He let out a small moan as Blake dragged his teeth over his pulse.

"Well That's going to have to change, isn't it?" Blake said, crashing his lips down once more onto Dean's.


End file.
